


Just A Teenage Douchebag, Baby

by softlyforgotten



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-22
Updated: 2010-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlyforgotten/pseuds/softlyforgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan is determined to have a good day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Teenage Douchebag, Baby

Ryan had decided it was going to be a good day. He had lain in bed, struggling to wake up for the last ten minutes he could spare before he really had to get up, he’d listened to his dad snoring in the next room, he’d seethed a little more about the dumb fight he and Spencer had had yesterday – pointless existential angst, Ryan’s _ass_ ; Spencer’s stupid philosophy class was going to his head – and he had _decided_. It was definite and no-nonsense. When he finally pulled himself out of bed and into the shower, it was with a grim and determined sense of cheerfulness.

“Hey,” Jon said fifteen minutes later, when Ryan slid into the backseat clutching a poptart. “S’up?”

Jon couldn’t get away with saying that unironically, but Ryan decided not to tell him. Instead, he said, “I am good.” And smiled.

Spencer twisted around and peered suspiciously at Ryan (Spencer _always_ got the front seat, it was fucking unfair. Just because Jon picked him up first each morning), and then groaned. “Oh,” he said. “I _knew_ you were going to get all thingy about this—”

“I’m not thingy,” Ryan told him, voice low and dangerous. “I’m in a good mood. See?” He smiled deliberately, baring his teeth.

“Woah,” Jon said, watching the rear view mirror and looking wary. “Spence, what did you _do_?”

“I told him to stop being so emo all the time,” Spencer said, sounding long-suffering and slumping down in his seat. “And he got all offended and said that he had much better dress sense than that, and I said yeah, but you’ve got more than enough angst to make up for it, plus, you know, that big gloomy sense of inevitable doom. And now he’s wearing colours.”

Jon suddenly looked very preoccupied with driving, the corners of his mouth twitching. Ryan huffed and kicked hard at the back of Spencer’s seat, plucking absent at his yellow shirt. He _liked_ it, and hadn’t bought it especially, anyway, so Spencer could just shut up. Besides, Pete had once told him that he looked good in v-necks.

Jon pulled into the parking lot and sighed. “Fucking school,” he said, and then he and Spencer both looked at Ryan, eyes bright and laughing.

Ryan forced back a scowl. “I’m looking forward to another day of our fine educational establishment,” he said coldly, and got out of the car.

“Hey!” Spencer called across the parking lot to him as he set off, chin firmly tilted up. “Lucky you have Trig first! It’s always good to start your morning off with something you suck at!”

“I’m planning to enjoy the learning experience,” Ryan hollered back, and ignored them both when they collapsed into helpless sniggers.

Ryan had _decided_ it was going to be a good day, but it seemed that the rest of the world had not received the memo. He spent a horrible hour and a half in Trig staring uncomprehendingly at the set of problems, and got to Psychology just in time to remember that he’d left his homework lying on his bed. By study hall he was flagging considerably, and wanted nothing more than to sprawl somewhere (preferably somewhere where he could glance casually over at Pete Wentz and his gang of seniors on occasion) and complain for a while, but Jon and Spencer were waiting with twin evil grins directed at him by his locker, so he pasted a smile on his face and marched over to them.

“Hi!” he said, and they both burst out laughing.

Jon clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll meet you at the Tree,” he said, and they strolled off together, looking – Ryan thought viciously – like the pair of giggling teenage girls they so clearly were.

Ryan opened his locker and emptied out his bag, grabbing the stuff he needed for his next lesson. Then he stuck his head inside and said, very quietly, “I hate the world.”

“Sorry?” someone said, and Ryan took his head out to see Brendon Urie looking at him hopefully. Ryan had forgotten that their lockers were next to each other.

“Oh,” he said. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“Okay,” Brendon said. He smiled, then, wide and friendly. “Hi, Ryan.”

Ryan lifted a hand absently and set off for the Tree. They’d sat there during study hall for the past three years, eating food perched on its giant roots. It had a great view of both the soccer pitch and the stands where the senior music kids always sat.

“So how’s your day going?” Spencer asked when he got there, smirking. “Nothing’s brought you down, I hope?”

“Nope, s’good,” Ryan said, and bit into his apple. He sat quietly for the most part, half-listening to Jon tell a story about Gabe proposing to the teacher earlier in Chem this morning, and idly scanning the grounds (he wasn’t there).

He’d just finished his apple and was trying to see if there was a teacher anywhere nearby who would give him a detention for just dropping it when Spencer leaned over with a grin and presented him with an empty soda can. “Drop it off in the trash for me, if you’re going?”

Ryan would have told him to fuck off, but he was in a good mood.

On the way back from the trashcan, Pete Wentz materialised out of thin air, apparently for the sole purpose of smiling at Ryan in passing. “Hi, Ryan,” he said, and all of a sudden Ryan’s legs seemed too long and his feet got caught up underneath him, and then he was, horrifyingly, falling over.

“Oh, wow,” Pete said, leaning over him and looking like he was trying very hard not to laugh. “Are you alright?”

Ryan mumbled something that was unintelligible even to himself and picked himself up, dusting the grass off his palms. He couldn’t bring himself to look up except for once as he headed back towards the Tree, and then he was met with the sight of Jon and Spencer _crying_ with laughter, the assholes. Ryan forced a smile, even though it felt kind of like it hurt.

“Hey,” Brendon said, suddenly at his shoulder and touching Ryan’s elbow hesitantly, like he would grab it if he thought he was allowed. “You okay? That looked like a shitty fall.”

“Oh,” Ryan said, kind of wanting to die. Had the whole _school_ seen? “Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing hurt.”

“Except your pride, right? I feel your pain, dude, I fall over all the fri— fucking time. Klutzes unite?” Brendon held up his hand for a high five, and after a moment’s hesitance, Ryan clapped his own against it. Being called a klutz wasn’t exactly high on his list of things to give high fives for, but Brendon had a pretty awesome smile. Ryan wondered absently if maybe he would teach Ryan how.

Brendon put his hand in his pocket, moving with a weird, awkward care. He looked suddenly shy. “Um,” he said. “I guess I’ll talk to you after lunch then, huh?”

“Right,” Ryan said, and went back to where Spencer and Jon were still laughing.

After lunch was when they had English study pair sessions. Ryan hadn’t exactly chosen to be partners with Brendon, but Spencer had said, “No offence, dude, but you’re kind of scary to do English with,” and Jon had said, “No, you _always_ hog Spencer, it’s my turn,” and seriously, _giggling teenage girls_ , especially when Spencer was blushing like that. Ryan had just sat down on his own and scowled darkly across the room at where Jac Vanek was making hopeful eyes at him (seriously, she had dumped him, did she still think he was going to do her homework for her?) when Brendon had asked, eyes wide and dark, twisting his fingers in the hem of his t-shirt, and Ryan had seized on the opportunity to get away from Jac’s calculating gaze.

It turned out that he didn’t really mind being stuck with Brendon after all. Brendon had always been the slightly hyperactive kid sitting on his own at the back of Ryan’s classes, and Ryan had never taken much interest in him, but he was alright, considering. He was always smiling, for one thing, which wasn’t as annoying as Ryan might have thought, and he seemed happy enough to sit and listen when Ryan talked about why whatever they were studying was crap, and how they should be doing Chuck Palahniuk instead.

Today, he plopped down next to him five minutes after Ryan had arrived and said, breathlessly, “Hi, again.”

“Hey,” Ryan said, and started to pull out his books.

“Um, I meant to say—” Ryan looked up and raised an eyebrow, and Brendon looked a little disconcerted. “I like your shirt,” he told Ryan. “The, uh, the yellow, I mean. Like, um, the sun? I like it.”

“Oh, thanks,” Ryan said. Brendon’s cheeks were pink – Ryan wondered if he had maybe been playing soccer at lunchtime. Ryan hadn’t noticed, but then, Pete had been playing right near the Tree, and once he had looked up and waved right at Ryan.

He was about to turn back to his notes when he noticed Spencer and Jon watching him sidelong from across the library, so he turned back and said, firmly, “I like your, uh, sneakers.” They were bright red, with rainbow laces.

Brendon beamed and Ryan nodded, satisfied, and pulled out _One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest_.

Before he could start talking about what they should do for the joint project due at the end of the term, though, Brendon asked, low and quick, “So, uh, how’s your day going?”

Ryan hesitated. The need to complain felt far more urgent than any desire to delve into Chief Bromden’s psyche, and Spencer and Jon would never know. “Um, pretty much a disaster,” he said, and then, when Brendon made an inquisitive face and shuffled closer, he launched into the whole long, drawn out story.

“—and _then_ I fucking fell over in front of this dude I have a big, dumb crush on,” he said some time later, discarding the last of his dignity (it was just _Brendon_ ), and Brendon made a weird, choking noise. Ryan looked up sharply. “Is that a problem?” he asked, coldly. “That I like guys?”

“No!” Brendon said, quickly. He swallowed hard; Ryan watched the drag of his Adam’s apple against his throat. “No, I mean – I know all about big, dumb crushes, go on.”

“Not as dumb as mine,” Ryan said glumly. “I always looked down on the morons who were dumb enough to like ridiculously straight guys, too. I have no self-respect.”

“Um,” Brendon said. “Are you sure? That he’s straight, I mean, he – he might not be.”

“Well, he’s dating Ashlee Simpson, so I’m pretty sure,” Ryan drawled, and Brendon’s face looked suddenly soft, and maybe something else, too, maybe kind of vulnerable. His eyelashes were very long, Ryan noticed out of the blue, long and dark against his skin when he blinked.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Brendon said quietly. “That really sucks.” He reached out, seemingly automatically, and patted Ryan’s shoulder a little awkwardly. It fit, Ryan thought decisively, that Brendon was maybe an accidental cuddler, made sense that he left his arm around Ryan.

“Uh,” Ryan said, weirdly distracted. Brendon’s arm was really warm around him. “I – thanks.” He looked down, and then cleared his throat. “I guess we should get started on Kesey, then.”

“Right,” Brendon agreed, and moved back, leaving goosebumps springing up in his wake.

It turned out to be a pretty useless study session; Ryan’s mind kept wandering off in strange directions, concentration apparently unachievable. It didn’t really help that Brendon was the most fidgety guy in the world, too; he tapped his fingers constantly against the table, rolling his nails down on the hard surface. Ryan spent nearly two minutes just staring blankly at Brendon’s hand before he realised that Brendon was asking him a question, and he felt stupid and off-balance for the rest of the afternoon.

At least he was free after that, though. He waved idly to Brendon and packed up his stuff quickly, waiting for Jon and Spencer at the door. They all three of them headed for Jon’s car, and Ryan was just starting to feel maybe a little – not cheerful, but _hopeful_ about the possibility of cheerfulness still, a nice Thursday afternoon, and his dad wouldn’t notice or care if Ryan didn’t come home. Then, of course, because Ryan’s life was clearly just the kind that demanded existential angst, Jon’s car refused to start.

“Um,” Jon said, looking flustered. Spencer was scowling, so Ryan figured it was safe to look annoyed. When Spencer was pissed off, generally the whole world could be dancing naked and Spencer wouldn’t notice anything that wasn’t in the direct field of his displeasure. “It probably just needs a little time to warm up or something,” Jon said quickly. “It does, sometimes – I know, let’s go get smoothies.”

“That’s like, a million miles away from here,” Ryan pointed out.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “It’s twenty minutes walk,” he said, “And I’d rather spend an hour getting smoothies than standing around this place waiting for Jon’s fucking car.”

“Harsh,” Jon commented mildly, and they set off.

It was an okay day for walking, really – getting into autumn, but not too cold, and they set off leisurely. Ryan wasn’t really listening to the conversation. He kept thinking about the way Brendon had put his arm around him. He didn’t know why his thoughts kept going back to that, instead of how Pete had said hi twice today, or whatever. Brendon wasn’t really anything special. He was just… around. All the time. Smiling.

“I want a mango smoothie,” he decided out loud, catching up with where Jon and Spencer had wandered ahead.

“What a surprise,” Spencer said, grinning, and they walked into the mall. “You _always_ get a mango smoothie, I don’t know why you felt the need to announce it like that.”

“You kind of do,” Brendon agreed, and Ryan opened his mouth to say something bitchy, and then closed it, head snapping up. Brendon was wearing the stupidest uniform Ryan had ever seen – seriously, pastel purple – and was standing behind the counter at the Smoothie Hut smiling at him.

Ryan stared at him. “I didn’t know you worked here,” he said, and Brendon’s face fell.

“Dude, Brendon serves us, like, _every time_ we come in,” Jon said, and Spencer thumped Ryan hard enough on the arm that Ryan knew he was legitimately annoyed and not just laughing at Ryan.

“Right,” he said feebly. “Sorry, I knew that. I’m a little off today.”

“He’s being happy,” Jon said.

“No, he’s trying to have a good day,” Spencer corrected. “For Ryan Ross, this is harder than it looks.”

“Um,” Brendon said. He looked bemused but he kept smiling all the time, like he wanted to laugh at the joke even if he didn’t get it. “I’m sorry to hear that?”

“See,” Ryan said. “Brendon appreciates my plight.” He smiled, and Brendon blinked at him, and then smiled back really quickly before turning around to start making clanking noises on one of the smoothie machines.

Ryan was still a little embarrassed the whole time they were there, and he felt weirdly conscious of Brendon serving other people behind the counter. He wished he’d sat with his back to Brendon; now he kept noticing his gaze drifting absently to where Brendon was, and then he had to catch himself out.

Brendon came over to them when they were done and took the empty paper cups, which was a bit embarrassing, too. “Thanks,” Ryan said, awkwardly, and Brendon nodded, keeping his head down.

Spencer and Jon just grinned at Brendon. They didn’t seem uncomfortable, didn’t even interrupt the conversation. Ryan wondered what was wrong with him.

“No,” Spencer said, and Ryan dragged his attention back. “I’m not going to see another of your weird—”

“It’s not _weird_ ,” Ryan said. “It’s by the same guy who did Fight Club. It’s meant to be really good—”

“Oh,” Brendon said, turning back to them. “Is that the one with whatshisface, Jake Gyllenhaal?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “Zodiac. They won’t come see it with me – because they suck,” he added hastily, shooting another glare at Spencer.

“I liked him in Donnie Darko,” Brendon said, slightly hesitant. “I think – I’d like to see it.”

“At least someone I know has good taste,” Ryan said, and then felt himself go red. He hadn’t meant to say that. He stood up and said, “Come on, let’s go. I’ve got lots of homework.”

Jon and Spencer followed him agreeably enough, and Ryan resisted the temptation to look back over his shoulder. Spencer laughed quietly. “Poor dude,” he said. “That’s what, the seventh attempt?”

“At least,” Jon said.

“What?” Ryan looked at each of them. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Ryan,” Spencer said. “Just because you’ve finally decided to pay attention.”

“I – what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jon told him. He sounded kind of dispirited. “Let’s just go, c’mon.”

Ryan did think about it. He thought about it all the way back to the car, and then he stopped just as Jon started it triumphantly, resting his hand on the door. “I’m not,” he said, slowly, and thought about it some more, thought about Brendon’s smile. Small things were beginning to seem very important. He looked up, and everything all of a sudden made sense.

“You guys go ahead,” he said. “I’ll catch a bus back later.”

Spencer leaned out the window, blinking in confusion at him. “What are you doing?”

“Guessing,” Ryan said, and turned away, broke into a quick walk and headed back in the direction they’d come from. He didn’t run, but he listened to music with a fast beat and matched his footsteps to it. There was a growing hope in him that did its best to counteract the nervousness in the pit of his stomach. It was okay, though. He didn’t mind being nervous.

By the time he got back to the mall, Brendon wasn’t in the smoothie shop. He was sitting on a bench outside it drinking a can of cola and listening to music, shoulders hunched up. He’d put a hoodie on over his shirt, Ryan noticed, though he’d pulled the collar up over it. It was bright pink, and clashed horribly. Ryan’s mouth was dry.

He forced himself to walk over to Brendon, and bent down into his view, said, “What are you listening to?”

He didn’t wait for a reply, sitting down next to Brendon and snagging one of the headphones. Brendon blinked at him in astonishment, but Ryan felt suddenly better, smiling and nodding his head a little to the familiar tune.

“Wheatus?” he said. “Really?”

Brendon blushed. “It’s not so bad,” he mumbled.

“It kind of is,” Ryan said.

“Yeah,” Brendon agreed after a moment, a little miserably. “But sometimes it’s appropriate, y’know.”

“Yes,” Ryan said, “I know,” and he settled back and listened to the rest of the song, their shoulders pressed up together. Brendon sat very, very still.

When it was over, the playlist flicked over to a jaunty piano tune that Ryan didn’t recognise, but liked all the same. He didn’t listen to it, though, just pulled an earplug out and said, “I don’t even like Iron Maiden.”

Brendon looked at him, face properly blank for the first time all day. “You’re kind of really arrogant,” he said.

Ryan nodded. “Sorry,” he said. “I think I’ve been a bit of a moron.”

Brendon bit his lip. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ryan told him. “Want to come see Zodiac with me?”

“Um,” Brendon said. “What about Pete Wentz?”

“Like I said,” Ryan said. “I’ve been kind of a moron.” He paused, and wished he was nicer, wished he knew a better way to say _English is my favourite class like it wasn’t when I was just busy feeling superior to everyone else last year_ and _I don’t know if you meant to, or – but all of a sudden I’m really sorry I didn’t notice you, I am, and if you let me, I’ll make it up to you_. He didn’t, though, and that wasn’t even all of it, so instead he asked, “Are you free on Friday?”

“That’s tomorrow,” Brendon pointed out. He sounded a bit numb. Ryan nodded again, and after a second, Brendon started to smile. Ryan sucked in a breath and something slotted into place – yeah, yeah, this was right, this had been right all along. He _really_ liked Brendon’s smile.

“Good,” he said. Then he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Brendon’s, very, very quick, because he kind of felt like he had to or he might explode, or just hate himself for the rest of all time. It was over too quick for Brendon to really react, but when he pulled back Brendon stared at him and then he reached out and touched Ryan’s cheek. He moved like it was going to be a quick, fleeting brush of his fingers, but Ryan leaned into it for a moment and closed his eyes, and Brendon’s hand was warm, like his arm was warm. So.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ryan mumbled, eyes half-closed, cheeks pink, and then he cleared his throat and stood up. “I hope the rest of your shift is okay.”

“Um,” Brendon said. He was smiling again. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Bye,” Ryan said, and then he did one of those horrible dorky waves, and was so embarrassed that he managed to walk out of the mall without looking back once.

Jon and Spencer were parked out the front, smiling in a knowing way at him, but kind, too, kind enough that Ryan remembered, with a sudden rush of warmth, why he loved them.

“So how’s your day going?” Jon asked, because he apparently was that dorky. Ryan opened the backdoor and chucked his schoolbag in.

“It’s looking up,” he said.


End file.
